


The Rules of Engagement

by Tafka



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafka/pseuds/Tafka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela is enjoying a light flirtation with the Inquisition's ambassador until an unexpected engagement puts an end to all her fun, and makes her realize she cares more deeply for Josephine than she will even admit to herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andrastes_grace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrastes_grace/gifts).



The Inquisition was more hospitable than Isabela ever could have hoped. The Inquisitor herself wasn’t around much, as far as she could see, always blowing in on a flurry of activity, and leaving just as quickly, with companions in tow, letting Skyhold once more fall into a calmer daily rhythm. It was just as well that Isabela was just an agent of the Inquisition, she didn’t envy Trevelyan her busy schedule and heavy burden of leadership. Varric had confided to her that Hawke was the original choice for the position, and all things being equal, Isabela was glad the laurels had gone to some lordling’s daughter rather than her dear friend. She had been there the last time they faced down Corypheus, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience.

As an agent, Isabela was not wanting for work, and after the Inquisitor’s visits one of her advisors always had some task or another for Isabela after their meetings. She found the Nightingale to be far less diverting than she was all those years ago when they first met, but her missions more than made up for it. Cullen was much more fun than he’d been in Kirkwall, and was almost too easily flustered when she told her (entirely made up) stories of him among the troops. It was almost too bad that the tasks he set her were frightfully boring, all about guarding merchant vessels and helping to secure ports. Of the three advisors, she liked working for Josephine the best. Her missions were even more boring than Cullen’s, it’s true, but running treaties and diplomats halfway around Thedas like a glorified messenger girl was worth it, just to be able to flirt madly with her, and steal the occasional kiss.

At first, she thought all her entendres and innuendoes were falling on deaf ears, but soon she learned the Ambassador’s tells. If truly flattered, Josephine would look down for a moment when she smiled, and if truly flirting back, she would sometimes bite her bottom lip. Subtle tells, but that is what made her so good at Wicked Grace, but Isabela was better. 

Once she was sure that Josephine was interested, she was even more shameless with the flirting, and devised reasons to come visit her in her office or even after hours. They would sit close together on the sofa in her office, close enough to brush fingers or knees together, but not so close as to appear improper. Josephine was always proper, which was nothing new to Isabela, who had seduced her fair share of proper ladies in the past. But for all that, she found that stealing a kiss from Josephine was somehow more daring than any of her previous conquests. 

She had taken to bringing back small gifts and trinkets from her travels, usually small carved animals from dockside markets (that Josephine cooed over and called “just darling”), beads and baubles for her hair (“beautiful craftsmanship”), and once a folio of tasteful prints (“colorful”). 

Today, Isabela had a paper-wrapped package of Tevinter pastry, and timed her visit just after Josephine’s last meeting of the day. When she sampled the flaky pastry stuffed full of nuts and honey, she knew that she had to bring them back to Skyhold for Josephine. The crumbs had stuck to the honey that covered her fingers and lips, and she had licked them clean and imagined Josephine doing the same. It had been a long journey for a baked good to undertake, and she hoped they had not gotten too soggy on their voyage. 

She slipped in through Josephine’s door just as her aide stepped out, and sauntered over to where Josephine was still bent over her papers. She only looked up when Isabela perched on the edge of her desk and purred, “I’ve brought you a truly _delicious_ present this time, Josie.”

When Josephine finally looked up from her work, it was obvious that she was preoccupied with something. “Oh, that is very kind, but you really shouldn’t be bringing me such gifts.”

“Oh you won't say that once you’ve tasted th--”

“No, I mean,” she clasped her hands together slightly harder than necessary, “I thank you but I really cannot accept this token from you, Captain Isabela.”

“Admiral Isabela,” she corrected instinctively. Josephine still looked quite composed and at ease to the casual eye, but Isabela could see her tension. “And whyever not?”

Josephine took a breath. “I have received word from my family that they have formally arranged a betrothal for me. Back in Antiva. Under the circumstances it would be inappropriate for me to receive any such gifts from--”

“From a pirate? From a peasant? From a _fallen woman_?”

“From anyone else,” Josephine finished calmly.

Isabela stood. She felt her stomach twist as if she’d eaten hardtack without soaking it. “Don't be ridiculous, Ambassador, it's only some silly pastry, it doesn't _mean_ anything.” 

Josephine flinched noticeably at that, and Isabela felt immediate remorse. Her words had come out harsher than she meant them to. This was nowhere near the first time she had been rejected, and usually she took it good-naturedly, with a laugh and a smile. This time all she could do was leave the room quickly, taking the hardtack feeling with her and leaving Josephine alone with a package of soggy pastries.

* * *

Isabela went to the Herald’s Rest, having no better way to spend her time than drinking and losing coin to Varric in cards. She didn't find him there, however. Instead, at their usual card table, sat the Inquisition’s spymistress. She rose when Isabela came near, although she made no sign that she noticed her.

“Come, walk with me,” she said softly, appearing to speak to no one in particular, so Isabela followed.

Leliana did not speak again until they exited to the cool mountain air of the battlements. “Though the formal announcement has not yet been made, there is no doubt you have already heard the news of Josephine’s engagement.”

Isabela said nothing. She had hoped to become drunk before thinking on the subject again. She didn't know whether she was more upset about the prospect of losing Josephine’s affections for herself, or the thought of her in an arranged marriage as miserable as Isabela’s own had been. She also needed to be drunk before reflecting upon why either of those thoughts would affect her so deeply.

“His name,” Leliana paused, as if expecting Isabela to start taking notes, “is Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto of Antiva. He’s said to be quite charming, and a very keen duellist.” She paused significantly.

“I've heard of him, he's supposed to be very good. And very attractive.” If the bitterness in her voice was noticeable, Leliana was kind enough not to mention.

She continued to walk and speak in the same casual manner. “The Otrantos are a good family, I've not heard much about them apart from a small note about an ill dealing with another family, the Terrazas. One of his uncles apparently cheated them out of a couple of holdings. Nothing involving either Lord Adorno or his parents, so there's no reason for the Inquisition to _formally_ oppose the betrothal.”

“Of course not.” This was the second time in one day that Isabela had been let down easy. It wasn't any easier to swallow the second go around. The terrible feeling in her stomach was back, along with a growing frustration. Josephine’s parents had decided this for her unilaterally, without consideration that their daughter might have wanted something different. The thought didn't sit well with Isabela, and obviously not with Leliana either. 

“ _Informally_ , Otranto is, as I said, an avid duellist, and Antivan tradition holds that--”

“You don't need to tell me about Antivan dueling etiquette, Nightingale,” Isabela snapped, “If you’ll recall, I'm the one that taught your darling Brosca everything about it. Don't you think I've already thought about challenging him to a duel? But I can't, he would never accept terms from a pirate, it would be seen as an insult.” She wanted to punch something in frustration. “And it would have to be me, there’s no one else here who stands a chance of beating him.”

Leliana paused, unruffled, and finally turned to face her. “So, in order to challenge Otranto, and get him to break off the engagement, you would need at least the standing of someone like… The Inquisitor?” She held Isabela’s gaze for a moment before letting her eyes drift upwards slowly.

They had stopped beneath the Inquisitor’s balcony. The glass doors stood open, curtains fluttering in the breeze, although Trevelyan herself was not in residence. It was unlikely that this was done by accident.

* * *

“Inquisitor! I was surprised to receive your challenge. I had not heard that you dueled.” 

Isabela shifted in her “borrowed” armor. It fit well enough where it mattered, but the leather still pinched in unexpected places. It was, after all, made to fit the real Inquisitor, not a pirate stealing her identity. “There's probably a lot you don't hear about me.”

Otranto smiled, it did not reach his eyes. He was, in fact, handsome, and from his carefully balanced tread, even before the duel, Isabela could see he was also as well-trained as everyone said. “I can see. You appear very different from the stories people tell.”

“Yes well, you know storytellers, always making up whatever they think is most interesting and no regard for the truth.” Isabela shifted her weight uneasily. Otranto was cunning, too, at least as observant as Josephine. She needed to get this over with and beat him before her masquerade was discovered. “Shall we begin? What weapons have you chosen?”

He presented the rapiers with a flourish. She weighted hers in her hand. It would not have been her first choice of weapon, but she was experienced enough with it. Her first choice would have been to throw a dagger at his heart and end this before it started. She could only imagine how angry Josephine would be if she did that. 

They squared off to begin their duel, and Otranto seemed impressed by her form. He threw some barbs at the Trevelyan family, but it didn't matter to her. They weren't her family, after all. She didn't have the heart to quip back, although it was expected. Instead, it felt as though her heart were in her throat, cutting off all speech.

She didn't want to waste any time against this opponent, and the more she spoke the more chances there were for Otranto to realize she was not actually the Inquisitor. Instead, she pressed her attack, hoping to overwhelm him with her superior speed. Unfortunately, he seemed able to match her.

“You fight with such fervor, Inquisitor! I begin to suspect that there is more behind this challenge than I suspected.”

“This is about Josephine, do you think I would give less than my best?” She grit her teeth and dodged.

He caught her in a clinch, “I know that I would not, but that is because she is to be my bride. What I do not know is what you stand to gain?”

Trevelyan stood to gain nothing from the dissolution of Josephine’s engagement. In fact, she might see it as yet another beneficial connection for the Inquisiton. From her perspective, there was likely nothing to object to. Otranto was rich, from a good family, and had no skeletons in his closet that Leliana could find, which meant that there were none there to be found. It was surely a better match than Trevelyan, a fourth daughter of a lesser house, could expect. It was evident that Josephine’s parents did their best to choose a good husband for their daughter. Far, far more than Isabela’s own mother had done for her.

Still, the prospect of an arranged marriage for Josephine sat ill in Isabela’s mind, for more than her own selfish reasons. It was true, she wanted to be able to continue to flirt with her whenever she desired, and see her eyelashes flicker and the edge of her mouth turn up just so. She wanted to see her delight when Isabela presented her with nearly worthless trinkets from across the sea. She wanted to sit with her beside the fire, and lean her head against Josephine’s shoulder, and feel the warmth of her skin beneath the silk of her shirt. She wanted to walk with her in Skyhold’s gardens, holding hands, and kiss her in daylight. She wanted all these things, but, more than that, she wanted Josephine’s happiness. Even if it was not with her

Otranto spun away as Isabela lunged suddenly. They were too evenly matched, there was too great of a chance that he might win. Isabela fought against a growing panic. “What is it you want out of this, Inquisitor?” He asked, unknowingly echoing Isabela’s thoughts.

She wanted Josephine for herself. But the other, newer feeling within her wanted Josephine’s happiness above all else. And if what made Josephine happy was not what Isabela wanted? What if it was not what her family wanted? Or what Trevelyan wanted?

“I… _I want her to be able to choose_!”

* * *

Isabela had barely entered the small room she was staying in when the door was flung open behind her. Josephine appeared in the doorway, looking more disheveled and distressed than Isabela had ever seen her. She was beautiful. She was angry.

“How _could_ you, Isabela? You impersonated Inquisitor Trevelyan! You arranged a duel with my fiance behind my back! You put the reputation of the entire Inquisition on the line! Whatever possessed you?”

It was difficult to claim innocence when she was still wearing the Inquisitor’s stolen armor, and she was still damp with perspiration from the duel. She was also finding it difficult to speak in the face of Josephine’s sudden anger. “I didn’t--”

“Don’t you know what it would look like if word got out that the Inquisitor was duelling her Ambassador’s intended husband? Don’t you know you could have ruined my family’s reputation, and the Otrantos’ _and_ the Trevelyans’ all in one fell swoop? Don’t you know how worried I was? _Don’t you know you could have been killed_?” There were tears starting in the corners of her eyes, and she grasped Isabela’s arms tightly as she spoke. 

Isabela automatically drew Josephine into a hug. If she buried her face in the ruffles on Josephine’s shoulders, she couldn’t see that tears were starting in Isabela’s eyes as well. “I would never have been killed. I am too good of a swordswoman.”

“I rushed all the way to Val Royeaux, but when I got here they said the duel had just ended. The crowd said that the Inquisitor was victorious, but no one in the crowd knew what the duel was about, what the terms you set up--”

Isabela shook her head, and pulled away slightly. “Otranto agreed to alter the terms after we ended the duel. It was all above board, Josie, all done by the rules, just the way you like.” She saw the beginnings of a smile on Josephine’s lips. “Well, except for the part where I impersonated the Inquisitor. I just wanted to help you, Josephine. I didn’t want you to be stuck in a loveless marriage the way I was. I challenged him intending to make him end the engagement, but… I changed my mind.”

Josephine pulled away, “You changed your mind?”

“I didn’t anyone else to make this decision for you, not your parents, and not me. Otranto agreed to release you from your betrothal, or not, as you choose, and there would be no bad blood between your families either way. You can still choose to marry him, or...”

Josephine’s smile widened, and she brought Isabela back into her arms, “Or marry you instead, I suppose?”

Isabela shook her head decisively, “Marriage is definitely not my style.” She tightened her arms around Josephine, keeping her from moving away again, “But neither is caring about someone else’s happiness before my own. I want you to be happy, Josephine, more than I want anything else in this world.”

Josephine leaned in, and brushed a soft kiss across Isabela’s lips. “I don’t want to make your decisions for you, either, Isabela. I love you, and I would love for us to be happy _together_ , whatever that means.”

Isabela grinned against her lips, “I’d love that, too.”


End file.
